It stung a little that Misty would believe me to be so self-centered. Yes, I’d always assumed we lived the way we did because of the danger to my life. Yes, I thought our secrets were meant to protect me.

  But only because Aunt Morgan told me so. She was the one who told me why she’d fled the dragon enclave with me when I was a baby. Who explained that she’d faked my death and taken me into hiding halfway across the country, where none of my family would come looking for me. It was Aunt Morgan who always shut me down whenever I started asking too many personal questions.

  I could sometimes coax her into answering questions about the various races and their differences, and I’d managed to glean a few tidbits of Idrian history. But the minute I wanted to know about her own life or mine—about friends or family—she would say that curiosity was dangerous. Eventually, I’d stopped digging for information and decided she would tell me what I needed to know whenever she thought I was ready.

  But was that really the only reason why I stopped?

  “I guess maybe I stopped asking because it hurt too much,” I admitted. “I knew she wouldn’t tell me, and it was easier not to constantly be reminded of what I’ll never have. Easier to ignore the fact that we’re only here because… well, because I’m broken. If I stopped thinking about it, I could pretend we were really human, and everything was going to be fine. We were safe, we were happy, and we could go on as we were.”

  “Kira, you’re a dragon,” Misty said, her tone sharp with exasperation. “So you have a few quirks. That doesn’t mean you can go on pretending to be a human teenager for the rest of your life!”

  “But I thought…”

  “You thought your aunt was going to protect you for another twenty years? Until when?”

  Well, as to that, I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t thought. Or rather, Aunt Morgan’s overprotectiveness had encouraged me to go on thinking like a child. Not like the adult I claimed to be.

  Maybe Misty was right. Maybe I’d been guilty of selfishness. Maybe my own willingness to hide from the world I truly belonged to was binding my aunt to a life she regretted. And maybe it was past time for me to stand up and take responsibility for my own secrets so that Aunt Morgan could return to whatever she’d given up to save me.

  “Supposing you’re right,” I said slowly, looking curiously at my aunt’s only friend that I knew of, “would she ever have pushed me out of the nest of her own free will?”

  Misty shrugged. “As to that, I can’t tell you what she’s waiting for. But the only way you’re going to find out is to ask her your questions and not accept a child’s answers.”

  To do that… I would have to find my aunt. Before our mysterious visitors did.

  I nodded decisively, my mind made up. “I’ll do it,” I promised. “But Misty, how do I figure out where she’s disappeared to? I don’t even know where she goes when she leaves. Has she ever told you anything?”

  “You think she tells me her secrets?” Misty chuckled, low and deep in her throat. “We aren’t that friendly. But I know there’s a place in Bricktown where she hangs out sometimes. A place that discourages humans, if you know what I mean.”

  That would be The Portal. As if any self-respecting Idrian teen wouldn’t know perfectly well where and what it was.

  On the outside, it looked like any other club, tucked between a bar and a Mexican restaurant on one of the busiest streets in Bricktown. But if you were strictly human, it would appear to be dark, even on a busy Saturday night, and the sign in the window would read “Closed For Renovation.”

  It was a place where the various magical races could go just to be themselves. To let their glamour go and relax. There was drinking, music, and dancing, just like in a human club, but of a far different variety, and the only ID you needed was the ability to get past the front door. The proprietor, Faris, was thought to be an elemental, but he’d never said for sure, and apparently no one had ever asked. It was enough that he decreed all races were welcome.

  I’d never been, but I’d overheard some friends talking about it in high school, and knew there were a few who used to sneak out and go dancing whenever a new fae band came through town. They thought I was human, of course, so I never got invited to go along. Even if I would have dared attempt such a thing, I was pretty sure my aunt would have killed me if I’d ever risked myself in public like that.

  But today, as luck would have it, was Friday, which meant the Portal should be open for business. Filled with music, drinks, and people. People I could ask about my aunt.

  I jumped to my feet. “Thanks, Misty. I think I know what I need to do.” I’d just lifted my coat off the rack by the door when she grabbed my wrist, catching me in a firm grip that pinched my skin beneath the woven wire bracelet I always wore.

  “You’d better not be thinking of just running down to The Portal and asking everyone you see about your aunt,” Misty said, her brow puckered in worry. “That’s not the way to find her. It’s the way to get dead, and she’ll kill me if she thinks I sent you off chasing unicorns.” She was joking, of course. There’s no such thing as unicorns.

  But really, did everyone think I was completely stupid? I might not get out much, but I’d read plenty of books.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised. “And it’s not like teenagers don’t hang out at The Portal all the time. Some of my friends used to go there. I’ll be fine.”

  She let go, still muttering, and watched me put on my coat without interfering further. “Just don’t stay out too late. And don’t be drinking fae potions and then trying to get yourself home. And if a stranger offers to give you a ride, you say no. Don’t be talking to any sirens, and don’t get into any fights. You know you have a hard time controlling your temper, and heavens help us if you let everyone at The Portal find out what you are. Your aunt will murder us both if you run around broadcasting your identity to everyone in the street.”

  As if I didn’t know that. I already had one stranger running around Oklahoma City knowing perfectly well what I was, and that was more than enough.

  “Thanks, Misty.” I wrapped my arms around her in an impulsive hug. “But you’re going to have to make up your mind. Either I’m an adult who needs to think for herself, or I’m a teenager who needs to be told not to stay out too late.”

  “I’ve known you since you were eight,” she grumbled. “You can be both.”

  Maybe that was true. And maybe that was how my aunt saw me, too. But even if she still saw me as a child who needed protection, she wasn’t here to provide it, and I was old enough to understand the danger she could be in. I had to act, and if she didn’t like it, she could always lecture me later. After she came home safely.

  “Misty…” I paused on the doorstep. “If something happens to me, you’ll take care of Chicken, won’t you?”

  She scowled.

  “I know you think he’s technically a demon in disguise, but he’s really a sweetheart. And I can’t stand to think of him being all alone. Please?”

  “Whatever happened to you’ll be fine?” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Just in case,” I pleaded. “You know when Aunt Morgan comes home, she’d be brokenhearted if anything had happened to Chicken.”

  After a long pause—during which she glowered at me from under lowered brows—Misty nodded. “Fine. But I won’t knit him little sweaters or let him on my bed, so you’d best come home in one piece, you hear?”

  I grinned. “Thanks, Misty. You’re my favorite.”

  “Just because I’m the biggest pushover,” she grumbled. “Now get out of here.”

  The minute I stepped through the front door of The Portal, I decided I might have made a mistake.

  For one thing, it was incredibly loud. Fae music didn’t tend to have much bass, but it was cranked high enough to create a weird buzz in the back of my throat that seriously annoyed the dragon.

  For another, everyone else was dressed for the club scene, while I was still wearing jeans, sensible boots, and a leather jacket. I never bothered with makeup, my only jewelry was the bracelet around my wrist, and my hair was still up in its usual ponytail. As a result, my outfit screamed “here for information,” rather than “looking for a good time.”

  And as if that weren’t enough, everyone in the room was bigger than me. By a lot.

  I was short even for a human, while many Idrians tended to be taller than the average human. And in here, where they wore no glamour at all, I was surrounded by walking, talking examples of why most Idrians bothered with glamour in the first place.

  Pale, elegant fae mingled with trolls, goblins, sprites, and pixies. I saw a dryad, two gargoyles, and a half dozen shapeshifters, all of whom were wearing their human shape, but were identifiable by their slightly luminous amber eyes—the same color as mine, though mine were a flat, dull color as long as the dragon wasn’t angry.

  As soon as I drew close enough, the tall, rangy shapeshifter behind the bar caught my eye. “You get lost on your way home from school, kiddo?” he asked, not unkindly, but with a hint of amusement. He was maybe thirty—not nearly old enough to be calling me “kiddo.”

  I suppressed the desire to let my dragon teeth show. The idea was not to let anyone in on my secret. “You get lost on your way to the barber?” I returned, raising my voice to be heard over the music.

  The shapeshifter in question rubbed a hand through his shaggy brown hair and laughed, his amber eyes lighting up with amusement. He was handsome enough, but in a rough, backwoodsy sort of way. “Don’t you know style when you see it?” he quipped. “Cost me a lot to look like I just got back from a run in the woods.” After another assessing glance at me, he seemed to decide I was just another customer, if slightly younger than average. “I’m Seamus,” he said. “You have a name, then?”

  “Kira.” I climbed onto a barstool and tried to look casual.

  “So, what can I get you, Kira?”

  I glanced around the room, wondering if there was a right answer to that question. What did shapeshifters normally drink? Out of the handful of individuals at the bar, and the thirty or so folks standing around chatting over their drinks, I couldn’t really detect any species related preferences. “Something without much kick,” I requested, painfully aware that I had no idea what this place actually served, except that it wasn’t alcohol. “I’m waiting for a friend.”

  The bartender filled a glass with something lavender and bubbly and slid it down the bar. “Try this.”

  I took a cautious sip, and for a second, it wasn’t half bad—sort of flowery and light and filled with sunshine. Then it kicked me in the mouth and tried to turn my esophagus inside out.

  “Wow,” I said hoarsely, after I could breathe again. “I’d hate to know what you give people who ask for the good stuff.”

  “I wouldn’t serve anything stronger to a kid,” he said, shooting me a look that suggested he thought I should be at home playing with dolls. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

  “For the record,” I said, trying not to sound peeved, “I’m an adult. Legally. And I’m kind of over being patted on the head and sent home to Mommy.”

  He shrugged. “Legal doesn’t mean much in here. But if you’re going to stay, you should know the rules. Don’t drink more than you can handle, and don’t pick fights.”

  “That’s it?”

  The shapeshifter nodded as he began drying a tray full of glasses. “Pretty much. If you start something, nobody’s going out of their way to save you.”

  “Like I said, I’m not here to start something, I’m waiting for a friend.” I took another cautious sip of my drink and tried to breathe through the burn as I looked around the room. Pretending I might see my “friend” at any moment. But something seemed to be wrong with my eyes. I squinted, blinked a few times, rubbed them, then turned back to Seamus with an accusing stare.

  “What is this stuff?” I gestured to my drink.

  “Unicorn juice,” he said, straight-faced, so I favored him with a sarcastic glare.

  “No,” he assured me with a grin, “that really is what it’s called. Don’t worry, no unicorns were harmed. It just makes everything sparkly for a while.”

  This was probably one of those fae potions Misty had warned me not to drink.

  I set the glass down carefully and returned to glancing around at the crowd. “So hey,” I said casually, “I guess my friend might have gotten here before I did. Have you seen a woman, about six feet, brown skin, dark hair, shapeshifter? Name is Morgan.”

  Seamus dropped a glass. Swore under his breath. I was still watching him pick up the broken pieces when someone grabbed me by the wrist for the second time that night.

  “Hey!” I looked up, and then up some more, into the face of a glowering giant with a neatly trimmed brown beard. His fierce green eyes held me paralyzed and too surprised to fight back as he dragged me off the barstool and into a small room just off the end of the bar.

  The giant slammed the door shut and more or less shoved me into a chair. There were about a half dozen other chairs and a round table tucked into a corner, so it was probably a gaming room. Or maybe this guy made a habit of abducting customers and bringing them in here to torture them. I probably should have screamed or something when he grabbed me, but the bartender had just finished telling me that no one would help me if I got into a fight.

  On the other hand, the bearded giant had clearly started it. Would no one even care if he tried to abduct me right out of the middle of the bar?

  “What,” the man growled, “in the name of all the courts are you doing here?”

  “I think there’s been a mistake,” I said, rubbing my wrist where his grip had pinched my skin beneath my bracelet. “I’ve never seen you before in my life, and frankly, even if I had, this whole grabbing and shoving thing isn’t something I’m particularly fond of. I’d appreciate it if you would keep your hands to yourself in the future.” I tilted my chair back onto two legs so I could stare up at him a little more comfortably, which only made him glower harder.

  “What are you going to do? Go dragon in the middle of The Portal and ruin nineteen years of work to keep you safe?”

  The chair dropped back to the floor, and my jaw dropped with it.

  “Do you think this is some kind of game?” he continued. “That Morghaine has sacrificed everything because you’re someone she’s mildly fond of?”

  “I don’t know anyone named Morghaine,” I said automatically. Meanwhile, my mind whirled frantically, wondering just what I’d wandered into here and how much my aunt had been hiding from me. Not to mention whether or not I should be afraid of this man who seemed to know far more than I was comfortable with.

  “Drop the act,” he ordered, as he pulled out a chair that I wasn’t entirely sure would hold his weight. “And tell me why you thought it was a great idea to come down here and throw her name around like confetti in front of half the Idrian population of Oklahoma City.”

  Obviously, my identity—and my aunt’s—wasn’t as safe as I’d assumed. And this guy, whoever he might be, had just made himself a candidate for having been the one to blab to my morning visitors.

  “How about first you tell me what makes you think you know anything about me,” I countered. “I don’t know you, and frankly, my Aunt Morgan hasn’t mentioned you either.”

  “I’m Faris,” he said, fixing me with a fierce, green-eyed stare. “And if you’re this careless with your own secrets, is it any wonder Morgan hasn’t told you everything?”

  So this was the owner of The Portal. And he claimed to be friends with my aunt.

  “I’m careless?” I asked sarcastically. “When you’re the one who just yanked me in here like you had something to hide?”

  “You didn’t leave me much choice!”

  We glared at each other, neither of us giving an inch. “So tell me, Faris.” My eyes narrowed. “Have you spoken to anyone else lately about Morghaine? Maybe a couple of fae wandering around asking too many questions?”

  Faris went pale behind his beard, but I couldn’t tell whether it was caused by guilt or fear. “No,” he growled harshly, but for once, I didn’t think his temper was aimed at me. “Can you describe them?”

  “Nope.” I folded my arms and gave back stare for stare. “Not until you give me even the tiniest of reasons why I should trust you. Because from where I sit, there aren’t any reasons at all.”

  I should probably have been afraid. Rumor made Faris an elemental, and no one seemed to know which kind. Even dragons were at least cautious around the more powerful members of the Elemental Court, and as a defective dragon, I had more reason to fear than most.

  But I had to believe that part of my secret was still safe—Faris actually seemed to think I was capable of going dragon in the middle of his bar. Plus, my aunt had always told me that the bracelet I wore would protect me from hostile magic. Hopefully, that extended to elemental magic, and besides, Faris hadn’t technically threatened me yet. It was even vaguely possible he was telling the truth.

  We engaged in a staredown for a few more moments until he began to swear, loudly and inventively. Then he reached beneath his shirt and pulled a chain over his head—a chain with a ring on it. A ring that I’d seen every day of my life until I was about seven or eight, when it had moved from my aunt’s hand to that chain around her neck.

  Morghaine’s seneschal ring.

  I stood up, reached out silently, and took it from Faris. Turned it over. It was hers, I was sure of it. There was the tiniest scratch across the face, right over the top of one of the balanced scales that hung from the claws of a rampant dragon. That scratch had happened about the same time she put the ring on the chain, and I’d always wondered whether she’d been attacked because of what it symbolized.

  “How?” I handed the ring back and dropped into my chair, feeling ten years older.

  “She asked me to keep it for her,” he said, and it was a mark of my faith in my aunt that I believed him. Elemental or no, she was a fighter, and he could never have taken this ring from her by force.

 

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